


A Secret Holiday

by airebellah



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of Khuzdul, Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Bilbo is So Done, Bottom!Bilbo, Consort Bilbo Baggins, Cultural Differences, Domestic Fluff, Erebor Reclaimed, Established Relationship, Fingering, Fluff, Frottage, King Thorin, M/M, Oblivious Bilbo, PWP, Poor Bilbo, Porn Without Plot, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Rutting, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Size Difference, Smut, Thorin Is an Idiot, Top!Thorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6785080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airebellah/pseuds/airebellah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Thorin had wanted was a day in bed with his husband, free from the troubles and responsibilities of kingship. Making up a fake holiday had seemed like a great idea at the time - he got his day alone with Bilbo, who would be none the wiser. But Thorin’s schemes rarely turned out as he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Secret Holiday

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [A Secret Holiday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237408) by [R13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R13/pseuds/R13)



> Alternatively known by tea-blitz and I as ‘Why Thorin Was Killed By A Hobbit.’ The idea comes from [this tumblr post by hairenya.](http://hairenya.tumblr.com/post/143579183540/okay-but-imagine-one-day-after-erebor-is)  
> Thank you tea-blitz for editing and screaming about this idea with me.

As Thorin awoke, he groaned and pressed his face deeper into his pillow. He could feel Bilbo shifting around beside him, a warning sign the hobbit was about to get up. But Thorin could not allow that to happen; he threw an arm over the hobbit, pulling his small husband against his chest with a grunt.

“Good morning to you, too,” Bilbo said with a laugh, sound far too happy for such an early hour.

There was a moment of silence during which they simply lay together, slowly breathing in and out. And then Bilbo began to squirm impatiently.

“Ah, am I being released any time soon?” he asked, twisting around to look at his husband.

The dwarf merely grunted, tightening his grip.

“Thorin,” Bilbo began slowly, tone heavy with admonishment. “We have to get up.”

Thorin grumbled incomprehensibly, slinging a leg over Bilbo’s hip for good measure.

“You’re a king, I may remind you,” Bilbo continued unbidden.

“I have not forgotten,” Thorin replied, voice husky with sleep.

“Oh, he speaks at last!” Bilbo exclaimed sardonically.

“Quiet, you,” Thorin growled, leaning forward to nip at his husband’s ear. It had the desired effect; Bilbo sucked in a breath, failing to compose another saucy quip.

The silence was lulling Thorin to sleep; his mind slowly drifted, arms full of his warm, soft husband, covered in silky furs, face buried in his downy pillow.

And then Bilbo spoke.

 _“Thorin,”_ he grumbled. “We’ve barely got enough time for first breakfast before the council meeting, then there’s the tour of the mines that we’ve rescheduled _twice,_ and don’t forget we have dignitaries visiting from Mirkwood –”

“As you said, I am the _king,”_ Thorin reminded, words thick and slow on his tongue. “No one will dare say anything.”

“But they _need_ you, Thorin!” Bilbo exclaimed, twisting around until he faced the dwarf. “Who is going to be in charge of the kingdom, _Fíli?_ Eru knows he’s a good lad, but he’s hardly ready.”

“‘Tis only one day,” Thorin reasoned tiredly. “You need not be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Bilbo huffed. “There is only one being in this bed with a penchant for drama, and it is _certainly_ not me!”

“No,” Thorin agreed. “Complaining about a single handkerchief for weeks on end is hardly dramatic.”

“Excuse me, Master Dwarf, but I’ll have you know –”

Thorin summoned all his strength to push himself forward, silencing Bilbo’s complaints with a kiss. “Peace, ghivashel,” he murmured against the hobbit’s lips. “Let us enjoy this morning together.”

Thorin lazily moved his lips against his husband’s, hand coming up to stroke Bilbo’s smooth cheek. Bilbo hummed appreciatively, shifting closer to press the front of his body against Thorin’s.

“You know I want nothing more than to spend a day in bed with you,” Bilbo said as he pulled away with a sigh. “But we just can’t, we have duties to attend to.”

“Hush,” Thorin interrupted, covering Bilbo’s mouth his own. “No more speaking.”

Thorin pushed up onto his elbow, rolling onto his stomach over top of Bilbo. He was careful not to bear too much of his weight down on his husband, just enough to press their fronts together. His lips moved slowly, carefully against Bilbo’s, hand moving to stroke the hobbit’s ear and brush through his curly hair.

Bilbo sighed, tilting his head to meet Thorin’s lips. He reached up, combing his fingers through Thorin’s thick beard and tugging. Thorin growled, nipping the hobbit’s lips in mock revenge.

But then Bilbo was pulling away all too soon, gaining an aggravated sigh from the dwarf.

“Thorin, we both have things to do,” Bilbo reminded torturously.

“Indeed,” Thorin agreed, pressing his hips into Bilbo’s suggestively. He grinned triumphantly as the hobbit flushed, nipping at his plump bottom lip. “There are many things I would love to do – to _you.”_

“And we can do those things tonight!” Bilbo gasped, damnably determined. “But only after our duties to the kingdom have been –”

“Everything has been rescheduled for tomorrow,” Thorin promised, leaving a trail of kisses from Bilbo’s lips and down to his throat, sucking and biting at the soft skin there.

“I-is that so?” Bilbo stammered, struggling to remain composed. “How did you accomplish such a feat, my King?”

Thorin’s body flushed pleasantly at the name; he carefully sucked a dark bruise on to his Consort’s skin, certainly not taking the time to think of an excuse.

“Today is a holiday,” Thorin found himself saying as he released Bilbo’s tender skin.

“Oh, really?” Bilbo snorted, disbelief belying his growing arousal. “How come I never heard this?”

Thorin pulled up, brows knitting into a well-practised frown. “Ghivashel, I told you yesterday at breakfast. Were you not listening?”

Bilbo’s mouth opened instantly to retort, and Thorin had to carefully hold back a smile when the hobbit’s expression fell. “Well, I,” he began. “You know better than to tell me important things at a meal!”

Thorin hid his smirk in Bilbo’s curls, lips brushing against his ear as he said, “So it is my fault?”

“Yes!” Bilbo gasped, hips starting to move against the dwarf’s. “So it’s really – we actually have a holiday?” he asked, sounding desperate to believe.

Thorin hummed in response, reaching under the blanket to grasp Bilbo’s fleshy hip. “It is... _nâmruluzh_ day,” he said, grinning ferally at his own joke. “Now let me have you.”

Bilbo’s mouth fell open at the words, body growing soft and pliant under Thorin. He eagerly rolled over as the dwarf’s impatiently pushed on his hips. Thorin groaned loudly as Bilbo sat up on his elbows and knees, legs parting immediately as he looking over his shoulder.

“Well, come on, then,” Bilbo said, hazel eyes darkening. “Take me.”

“You are a wanton thing,” Thorin growled appreciatively, taking a moment to admire his husband’s plump backside. “What I have done to deserve you by my side, I cannot say.”

“Oh, come off it,” Bilbo huffed. “We have the whole day to ourselves - are you going to waste it like this?”

Thorin’s only response was covering the hobbit’s small body with his own, one hand wrapping around Bilbo’s length while the other kneaded his thigh. Bilbo’s hips pushed back, rubbing against Thorin’s cock teasingly.

“More,” Bilbo moaned at the slow, lazy flicks of Thorin’s hand. “I need more.”

For all that Bilbo was prim and proper, his appetite was insatiable – both in bed and out. He often complained about Thorin’s desire for lengthy foreplay, but the dwarf simply wanted to make sure the hobbit was always fully prepared; after all, he was so much smaller than Thorin, and the fear of hurting him never quite disappeared.

Bilbo sighed loudly as Thorin pulled away, turning his neck to pin the king with a contemptuous scowl. Though his rosy cheeks darkened when he saw what Thorin was doing - he had grabbed the vial of oil from their nightstand, thoroughly drenching his fingers in the thick, scentless fluid.

As Thorin settled behind him once more, Bilbo shamelessly parted his legs even further, back arching to expose himself. Thorin groaned, hands sinking into Bilbo’s soft skin. It was a position that drove Thorin absolutely _insane,_ which Bilbo knew full well.

“You will be the death of me,” he moaned, finger gently pressing at Bilbo’s entrance before the slick finger slid inside. Both groaned at the feeling, Bilbo instantly canting his hips. Thorin pressed deeper, quickly creating a torturously slow rhythm.

“Yes!” Bilbo cried as Thorin pushed in a second finger, quickening his pace. Soon he had three inside, twisting and pressing and crooking. Bilbo panted, hips rocking back to meet Thorin’s every move.

Thorin removed his fingers, smirking at Bilbo’s whimpering response. “Quiet, you,” he grumbled, giving Bilbo a light smack. The hobbit gasped, hips wriggling as though asking for more. Instead Thorin slicked up his hard cock, lining up their hips and sinking inside.

Thorin hissed at the tight warmth, resting his forehead against Bilbo’s shoulder blade as he waited for the hobbit to adjust. He gave a few testing thrusts, pace quickening at Bilbo’s encouraging gasps. Soon he was slamming into the hobbit, keeping Bilbo flush against his front with an arm around the hobbit's chest.

“Yes, yes!” Bilbo panted with each slam of Thorin’s hips. “Harder, please, yes! Thorin!”

The dwarf growled, sinking his teeth into Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo moaned, so loud and shameless, Thorin almost came immediately. But he held back his release, wrapping a thick calloused hand around Bilbo’s neglected cock.

“Oh!” Bilbo yelped at the sudden touch, his small body clenching beneath the dwarf’s. “Oh, oh, Thorin, oh, I’m going to –”

Bilbo’s desperate voice cut off with a cry, his body shaking with his orgasm. Thorin growled, rubbing his hand through the hot, sticky fluid as he released inside Bilbo’s warm, tight hole.

They both lay there, catching their breath for a moment before Thorin finally pulled out. He collapsed on the bed, pulling Bilbo into his chest, uncaring of their mess.

“Well,” Bilbo finally said after a while. “That’s one way of celebrating the holiday.”

Thorin snorted, pushing his nose into Bilbo’s curls.

“I hope we have some more celebrating to do,” he continued. Thorin did not have to look up to know Bilbo sported a sly smile.

“Mm,” Thorin agreed. “After all, it is nâmruluzh day.”

 

There really should be more holidays, Bilbo decided as he stretched lazily. His bottom pleasantly burned from his and Thorin’s amorous activities, his lips kiss-swollen, neck tender and likely covered in too many bruises to hide.

Thorin and he had spent the day in bed, sleeping and eating between their many rounds of sex. The dwarf hardly let Bilbo lift a finger, always being the one to retrieve a servant to bring them food, tea, and whatever else Bilbo desired. It was the least he could do, Thorin had reasoned, after all Bilbo had done for the kingdom. Bilbo had rolled his eyes at the outrageous sentiment, though for once he allowed himself the pampering – he was a bit too sore to do much walking around, after all.

But now he had awoken and Thorin remained sleeping, arm thrown over his eyes as he snored loudly. Bilbo’s grumbling stomach reminded him there were still three meals left in the day. In spite of his sore bottom, he decided to go down to the kitchens himself. He was curious to see if the dwarves had a special celebration planned for the holiday – and besides, it was hardly seemly if the King and Consort spent the _entire_ day locked away in their bedchamber.

After a quick bath, Bilbo dressed and left the rooms.

On his way, Bilbo ran into Balin. “Hullo, Balin!” he greeted merrily, stopping to chat with the elderly dwarf.

Balin blinked, seeming surprised to see him. “I was not expecting ye, laddie,” he confessed, causing Bilbo to frown. “Thorin gave express orders for ye not to be disturbed.”

“Oh, that silly dwarf,” Bilbo scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “I was just going to get some food from the kitchens, in truth. But now that I’ve run into you – happy nâmruluzh day!”

Bilbo smiled widely, expecting a gracious bow or some other, terribly dwarvish reaction. Instead Balin’s eyes widened, the elderly dwarf choking as he said, “Sorry, laddie, what did ye say?”

“Happy nâmruluzh day!” Bilbo chirped again. He sighed, leaning in as he said, “I know I’m not supposed to know any khuzdul, but I’m afraid Thorin let this one slip.”

“Did he indeed?” Balin asked wearily, a hand coming up to cover his face. “Bilbo, I’m afraid I should let you know –”

Just then, Bilbo’s stomach growled loudly. The hobbit gasped, a hand slapping over his round midsection. “Terribly sorry, how rude of me!” he exclaimed, utterly horrified. “If you’ll excuse me - I really must eat!”

Bilbo turned and walked away without waiting for an answer – he was far too embarrassed to stay any longer, and hopefully Balin would excuse him for his blunder.

Bilbo went straight for Bombur’s private kitchen; the dwarf preferred to work alone as much as necessary, so thankfully the room was often empty, allowing Bilbo to pilfer some food without troubling any workers. Bombur was already inside, kneading a large mass of dough as his brother leaned against the counter, smoking away at his pipe.

“Good afternoon!” Bilbo greeted cheerfully, plucking an apple from a bowl and biting into the tart green fruit immediately.

“Good afternoon, Bilbo!” Bombur greeted with a wide smile before turning back to his bowl.

“And what brings ye here to see us, yer Majesty?” Bofur teased.

“I’m absolutely starved!” Bilbo bemoaned, barely managing to complete the sentence before taking another desperate bite of fruit.

“If ye can wait a few minutes, I’ll have a fresh loaf of bread!” Bombur promised.

“Oh, that sounds fantastic!” Bilbo said, mouth watering at the mere thought.

The three lapsed into silent, Bilbo too absorbed in his fruit to keep up polite conversation. But Bombur was happy to silently roll his bread into shape, and Bofur to puff on his pipe.

“So do you two have any special plans for tonight?” Bilbo asked as licked all the remaining juices from his fingers.

“What’s this, now?” Bofur asked.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Bilbo muttered, smoothing out his waistcoat as he straightened. “Happy nâmruluzh day!”

Bombur spluttered, hands slamming down on his perfectly shaped dough and squishing it flat. Bofur choked on his pipe, waving smoke out of his face as said, “Bilbo, what did ye say?”

Bilbo licked his lips, slightly unnerved by another strange reaction. His hand fiddled with his ascot, though he quickly removed it after Bofur’s gaze dropped to his darkened skin.

"Happy, ah, nâmruluzh day?”

“I thought that’s what ye said!” Bofur exclaimed before breaking out into uproarious laughter, slapping his knee as he doubled over. “Aye, looks like it was a _mighty_ happy nâmruluzh day!” he hollered, pointing his pipe at Bilbo’s neck and waggling his brows suggestively.

“I-I’m sorry,” Bilbo said with a growing frown. “But am I missing something?”

“Do ye know what you just said, laddie?” Bofur asked, wiping his eyes. When Bilbo shook his head, the dwarf approached, leaning in to his whisper in his ear.

Bilbo gasped, eyes widening in horror. His cheeks and neck burned with shame, but any embarrassment was quickly replaced with white-hot rage.

Bilbo turned on his heel without another word, marching back to the royal chambers. The entire way he thought of ways he would avenge his decimated dignity, starting with castration and ending in evisceration.

Luckily for Bilbo, and terribly unluckily for Thorin, he ran into the dwarf king in the hallway. Thorin’s pleasant expression melted into one of terror at the look on his husband’s face.

“Thorin Oakenshield!” Bilbo yelled, raising a finger and wagging it at the cursed dwarf.

“Ghivashel,” Thorin began to plead even as he began to walk backwards. “Please, Bilbo, you must understand–”

“I am going to _kill you.”_

Thorin turned around and ran faster than he had ever before in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Nâmrul - fuck  
> Uzh - ing  
> Both parts came from different sources, I believe neither of them were from the Dwarrow Scholar. I can’t really attest to their accuracy


End file.
